


Carl's Dream

by genevievedarcygranger



Series: Regan Week 2018 pt 2 [3]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Michonne, Bisexual Rick Grimes, Domestic, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Language, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Future, Implied Sexual Content, Infertility, Light Angst, Lots of people are gay and or pregnant, M/M, Mentions of Forced Infertility, Mentions of Past Infedility, Mentions of miscarriage, Mentions of past abuse, Mentions of past domestic violence, Multi, Pansexual Negan (Walking Dead), Polyamorous Character, Polyamory, Post-All Out War Arc (Walking Dead), Pregnancy, Regan Week, Regan Week 2018, Regan Week 2018 pt 2, Regan Week 2k18, Regan Week 2k18 pt 2, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 12:12:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15994970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genevievedarcygranger/pseuds/genevievedarcygranger
Summary: It’s a brand-new world, and there’s been time to heal from old wounds and the war. Now, it’s time to grow and let the heart get what the heart wants.





	Carl's Dream

When Negan woke up, it was still dark outside. These days he never got to sleep for very long or very deeply, mostly spending the nights tossing and turning. On the days where he worked particularly hard – which was most days now – he usually crashed early, and then woke up early in preparation for the next day. This day was no different, and while Negan had always been a guy forced to be a morning person, getting up early to beat the school traffic and cook Lucille breakfast before he left or squeeze in a quickie, he still always had to have a reason to get up in the morning. In the cell, he didn’t have one. Now he does.

Staring at the ceiling, Negan took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. Through his grey curtains and yellowed blinds, he could see that the dark of night was fading to grey again. Flopping on his side, he turned his back to the window to check the time on his analog clock. Nearly five. With a yawn, he sat up and popped his back, and then threw on his gardening clothes before heading out, munching on a pear for his breakfast.

To his surprise, he was the first one in the tomato patch, and for a second, he hesitated. He was sure that today they were supposed to work this garden. They were ready for picking, all red and no greens. Figuring that Rick just had a sleepy start, Negan went ahead and started without him.

Of course, he couldn’t deny he was disappointed. One of his reasons for getting up this morning was that he could share his sunrises with Rick. They always paused to watch the red bleed over the horizon, the brilliance of the orange, the warmth of the gold, and at the edges all, the lavender and violet sky littered with fading, twinkling stars that were slowly snuffed out one by one like candles. It was beautiful, and most of the time Negan couldn’t help but finish it off by looking at Rick, who was just as beautiful as the dawn with his face bathed in colors. Then it was back to work.

The sunrise came and went, and Negan watched it by himself, holding his knees to his chest with his chin resting on them. When he went back to work, picking and pruning and weeding, Negan caught himself lifting his head every few minutes, on the lookout for Rick. It wasn’t like him to be absent, and before Negan could stop it, anxiety bubbled in his belly.

Was he sick? Was there an emergency? Did Rick have to leave in the middle of the night for another community? Maybe someone else was sick, like Judith.

Pushing away the swirl of thoughts, Negan climbed to his feet and briskly wiped at the dirt that still clung to his kneecaps. He could just check, nothing wrong with that, and then he’d go back to work. So, he made his way to Rick’s house and tried to think of good reasons that Rick wasn’t in the garden this morning.

Maybe he was pulled into some task for the festival, or maybe Michonne convinced him to stay in bed with her. At that assumption, Negan tried to not let his mind wander. It wasn’t jealousy that lanced through his gut, but still, something warm started to burn inside him at the thought. He wanted that, the morning lie-ins again with someone he loved, with the people he loved.

On his way, Negan slowed down as he started to pass by one of Alexandria’s pleasure gardens. Most of the gardens now were for utility, growing fruits and vegetables, but around the gazebo people had started planting flowers just for the beauty of them. The seeds were found among the packs of vegetable and fruit seeds anyway, so it wasn’t like anyone went out of their way to find them. The work in the flower garden was voluntary, too, and they used the extra, left-over supplies like manure and mulch on that after they were used for food gardens.

Out of all the gardens, Negan loved this one the most. He was never much of a green thumb, but Rick had given him some flower seeds to plant on his own to encourage him to try, and Negan’s patch of daisies was still holding up beautifully. He diverged his path for a quick stroll to check on said daisies, and as he wandered, he noticed everyone’s distinct impression. Ms. Jenkin’s had a rosebush, and Tara had planted a wild rosebush just to spite Ms. Jenkin’s vanity, and probably as an ode to Rosita, a play on her name. Jadis had few sunflower stalks that towered highest in the garden, an apt choice that reflected her, Negan supposed. Jadis was tall and not exactly an ordinary beauty – well, she was beautiful, but there was an unexpected deepness in her voice and the curve of her eyes that lent herself to being a unique beauty, rather than a classical one. A classical beauty like Rick, though, he had planted some forget-me-nots.

When Negan reached his daisies, he gathered up a few of the yellows and a few of a whites, using his pruning shears to cut them loose. There were a few small purple flowers, too, but they more or less grew wild from some loose seeds. Remembering the name of them, Negan pulled a few of those, too. With his bouquet clutched in hand, he continued on his way.

It wasn’t until he was already standing in front of the Grimes household’s yellow front door that Negan felt a little ridiculous with the flowers. It had been on a whim – a gut reaction, something deeper, but he didn’t want to acknowledge that – that he got them, but on the off-chance that Rick was sick or that something bad had happened, the flowers could be a sympathy token. After he gathered his courage, he quietly knocked on the door.

While he waited, he ducked his head and noticed with some dismay that he had tracked dirt on their white front porch. The words that might have been written on their welcome mat had faded with time and use. He felt like he was intruding, and nearly turned to leave.

Michonne answered the door, her pale-yellow bathrobe loosely tied around her waist and the exact same shade as the front door. She had her dreadlocks piled on top of her head in a twist, her usual headband missing. Over Negan’s shoulder, early morning light filtered through the mist and illuminated Michonne. Seemingly unbothered to find Negan at her door, she smiled. “Good morning. You come looking for Rick?”

Wishing he had something to busy his hands with, Negan shoved them in his pockets. “Yeah, I was just checking in. He didn’t come garden with me, so I just wanted to see if he was alright.”

“He’s just resting,” Michonne stepped the side, letting the front door swing open wider in a silent invitation for Negan to follow her inside. “I turned off his alarm clock so he could sleep in some.”

“Figures Rick wouldn’t just take a day off on his own.” Negan toed off his boots at the entryway while Michonne made her way to the kitchen.

“No, Rick’s stubborn that way.” Negan’s eyes were on her back, following the movement of her confident, albeit relaxed posture of her shoulders down to her the slight sashay of her hips. “He needs people like you and me, Negan, to remind him to enjoy life now and then.”

Michonne turned to look at him, her eyes warm, already smiling, and he caught himself, looking away at anywhere else but her. “Yeah,” Negan’s response was a little cliched, “all work and no play makes Rick all grey.” Negan’s bare feet whispered over the hardwood floor as he joined Michonne in the kitchen.

“Now there’s the pot calling the kettle black,” Michonne teased, and lifted her hand to his cheek where his stubble was more silver than black, “or grey actually.”

Under her touch, Negan smiled, and her thumb naturally slotted into the divot of his dimple before it was gone as she pulled herself back to a comfortable distance away. With the space came clarity, and Negan remembered the bouquet in his hands and held it out to her. She looked over them with a smile.

“For Rick?”

“For all of you. Don’t you like daisies? I know Judy does.”

“I do.” She grabbed a clear glass vase from under the sink and filled it halfway with water before collecting the flowers and arranging them artfully. The simple bouquet brightened the whole kitchen. “It’s beautiful, Negan. Thank you.”

Too bashful to acknowledge the flowers now, Negan shied away and spotted an old-fashioned metal tea kettle on the stove. “Coffee?” Negan asked as he nodded to it, unable to hold back the hopeful, eager edge in his voice.

“Ginger and mint tea,” Michonne tossed over her shoulder as she glided to one of the cabinets. “Sorry to disappoint. Would you still like a cup?”

“I…I don’t mean to interrupt your morning. I don’t need a cup.”

“Negan,” Michonne interrupted him, and pulled two coffee cups from the cabinet anyway. The one in her right hand was a pretty blue with curved sides, dwarfing her small hand. The other one was a matching design, but a dull green color that reminded Negan of unripened tomatoes. “You’re not interrupting anything. You know, I’ve started to enjoy your company. Got used to it around the second or third month of having you here.”

As the tea kettle started to whistle, Negan moved out of Michonne’s way. “I guess I’m just like the neighborhood cat that way. You feed me a couple of times and you just can’t fucking get rid of me.”

“Hm, I don’t really see you like that,” She disagrees as she poured the tea, dunking the homemade tea bag in both of their cups a few times to strain out the last of the flavor. “I’ve always thought of you more like the old dog we saved from the pound.” As she passed him the green cup she smiled at him to show she was teasing, and Negan smiled right back.

“At least I was house broken, right? And good with kids.”

Pausing from blowing on her teacup, Michonne archly replied, “I suppose you’re half right.”

Rolling his eyes, Negan briefly blew on the tea before he tried it – and nearly scalded his tongue for the trouble. “Shit!” He jerked his cup back and spilled some tea on his hand – “Fuck!” – and quickly set the cup down before he could hurt himself further, accidentally sloshing on the pristine island countertop.

Already setting her cup aside, too, but without making a mess, Michonne took his wrist and led him to the sink to run cold water over the burn. “It doesn’t look too bad. You won’t need any aloe vera. Mouth wounds heal fast. So that should be fine. Let me look anyway, just to be sure.” Gently, her hand cupped his cheek, palm still warm from her teacup, and angled his chin around so she could look at his mouth.

This close to her face again, Negan could see the rich, deep brown of her irises like freshly plowed dirt, and how her lips were flush and full, and how she didn’t have a single flaw. But she was Rick’s wife – and neither of them loved Negan like that, and Negan knew from past affairs with Lucille and his own harem that life didn’t work that way. He pulled his face away with shame. “It’s fine, Michonne. Don’t worry about it.” His tongue had already flicked at the new burn, worrying it. “How about I start working on breakfast for you guys? That should give my tea some time to cool the fuck off.”

If Michonne was hurt, she masked it well. “Alright, Negan. Just make some eggs and oatmeal.” She helped him by pulling out the oatmeal from the cabinets, and Negan had already moved away to collect the eggs from the fridge.

“No pancakes? No bacon?” They had a fresh package of bacon, Negan saw.

Her answer was a little cryptic. “Not today, Negan.”

So, Negan fried and scrambled some eggs for the Grimes family, and made some oatmeal in silence. When he tried his tea it was surprisingly good, though not as good as coffee, and whenever his and Michonne’s eyes met one of them quickly looked away. At one point, she snuck upstairs with the vase of flowers.

Eventually, when she came back down, she was dressed for the day and Carl followed after her. The smell of breakfast lured him to the kitchen. When he set his eye on Negan, he wasn’t surprised at all. “My dad’s still asleep.”

“I know that. He can play hooky for one day. Hell, kid, all of you deserve a damn family day.” Negan caught the irony in his statement a tad too late, but thankfully Carl didn’t point out how Negan wasn’t family. Pulling himself away from those thoughts, Negan pushed a bowl of oatmeal along with a plate of fried eggs in Carl’s direction where he sat at the island to eat. The boy had shot up like a weed and was constantly hungry. He watched him scarf his breakfast down before glancing over at where Michonne was sitting at the table. “What about you, Michonne? Breakfast?”

“I’m fine with just my tea, Negan.” She was on her second cup now, and there was a fresh pot on the stove that she started up after they finished the last. “I had some crackers earlier, too, before you came.”

Something niggled at the back of Negan’s mind, but he wasn’t sure what. “Alright, Michonne. Well, I better get going back to the garden. It’ll be just me working on it today I guess.”

“I can come with and help for a bit,” Carl offered, a little to Negan’s surprise. “But I reserve the right to leave whenever. No questions asked.” Now Negan wasn’t so surprised anymore.

“Fair’s fair, Carl. Let’s go.” Negan almost left, and then spun on his heel to face Michonne again. “Shit, um. Do you want me to clean the kitchen?”

Waving her hand at him, Michonne shook her head. “It’s nothing I can’t handle. I’ll probably throw on some music, too. Have some fun with it. I can’t be completely lazy on my day off, but you get back to your tomatoes. We’ll need everyone if you’re going to make us your famous spaghetti.”

“Yes ma’am,” Negan teased with a smile, already thinking about wintertime with the smell of garlic on freshly baked bread broken between him and the Grimes family, and he gently shut the door behind him as he left.

* * *

 

When Rick woke up, it was not to the ringing of his alarm clock like it has been for the past two or so years. No, when he woke up, the first thing he heard was music, and as he laid there on his back, blearily staring up at the popcorn ceiling, Rick realized it was Weird Al Yankovic. Michonne’s music.

_"Another one rides the bus.”_

Snorting softly, Rick turned his head toward his alarm clock. The first thing that got his attention, though, was the bouquet of flowers. Tiny Blue-Eyed Grass. White and yellow daisies. They smelled fresh, and Rick knew they had to be because they weren’t on his bedside table last night. When he looked at the analog clock he’s surprised by how late he’s slept. Nearly 8:30. Normally, he’d be up before the sun so he could get some work done in the garden before it gets too hot. Grabbing the clock, he twisted it around to check – and the alarm was switched off. It had to be because of Michonne, though, he wasn’t sure if she was responsible for the flowers. He doubted it. Another suspect came to mind instead.

Setting the clock back down, Rick got out of bed and threw on the pajamas Michonne had pulled off of him last night. He grabbed his robe and his cane, and then went downstairs.

Michonne was already dressed for the day, grinning over her cup of ginger and mint tea at him like the cat who got the cream. As always, she was beautiful, radiant, but Rick knew that it wasn’t just the seafoam green of her shirt that made her dark skin look like she was practically glowing.

“You,” Rick playfully accused in his rough morning growl, “turned off the alarm.” Leg still a little stiff from sleep, Rick limped over to where she sat at the kitchen table.

"They can manage without you for one day,” Michonne teased and tilted her face up for her good morning kiss. Her lips were warm and tasted like her tea. Rick’s mouth was soft and tasted like his baking soda toothpaste – not Michonne’s favorite, but they ran out of the spearmint flavored one.

When they broke the kiss, Rick murmured, “Someone brought me flowers.”

“Who do you think?”

“We should tell him today, Michonne.” When Rick spoke, his lips brushed over hers, and he could feel her warm, damp breath and smell the ginger on it. He brushed the tip of his nose over her cheek, his beard tickling her before she stopped him with another kiss.

"I want to tell him today, too. He deserves to know how we feel.” Smiling at Michonne’s agreement, Rick bent in for another, longer kiss. The kiss lasted for less than a moment before they were interrupted.

“We’re all playing hooky,” Carl said a little breathless and sweaty, tracking dirt. He’d just come inside and was on his way up the stairs, taking two at a time.

“All of us?” Rick called after him. “Where did you come from?”

“The tomato patch. I was helping out Negan.”

At the name, Rick had to hide his grin. “You didn’t clean up the kitchen after breakfast?” Rick knew that that was Carl’s least favorite chore.

“Hey, I didn’t put on that song.” He called back down the stairs, and then Rick heard his bedroom door slam shut. Not a sound of anger, but he’d talk to him about that later.

Then Judith rounded the corner in the kitchen, and as soon as she saw her father, her eyes lit up. “Daddy!”

“He-hey,” Rick half-laughed and braced himself for Judith crashing into his good leg. She was getting so tall now, her head nearly up to his elbow, and her hair had yet to lose any blonde, even if it had lost all her curls. She hugged him tight, and Rick bent over his cane to kiss the crown of her head. He would’ve shown the same affection to Carl if he’d let him, but Carl has been dodging his hugs for years now. Teenagers.

“They made a big owl for the party!”

“What?” Rick asked, turning to Michonne for clarification as he carefully lowered himself to one knee to be at eye-level to Judith.

“They’re taking this festival extremely seriously.”

Suddenly, he remembered the festival, something reminiscent of old county fairs from before. If this one was successful, it would become an annual tradition for Alexandria. Turning back to his daughter, Rick said, “A big owl?”

"It’s outside,” Judith gestured with her hand, her eyes big and round and her first big girl tooth half-way finished growing through her gums and on display as she smiled. Still, there was a quiver of excitement, almost like safe kind of fear, like kids use to have on Halloween when they delighted at an excuse to scream.

“Mhm,” Michonne took another sip of her tea. “They’re gonna get ya.”

“Never,” Rick boasted. “Let’s go see.” He offered Judith his hand, and she grasped it tight and started to lead him out the open front door – Carl’s doing, no doubt. His leg made the going slow for him, but he would follow. “I’m not afraid of a big owl. How big is it?”

While Judith pointed it out to him, telling him how her teacher Mrs. Corin explained how it would be used for the festival, Michonne watched them go from her seat at the table. She still had that smile on her lips, and she could still feel where Rick’s kisses lingered on her skin, sending tingles all the way down to her toes and fingertips. Her cup of tea was still warming her palms as she took another sip and absently wondered if she’d be able to keep anything other than crackers down for breakfast. She had a craving for pomegranates. Would they be in season this time of year at the Kingdom? Maybe they could plant a few here. As she wondered to herself, Michonne slipped a hand down and placed it over her stomach. Time would tell.

* * *

 

After Judith showed him the owl, Rick managed to convince her to come back to the house so he could change out of his pajamas into real clothes. It was still morning, the sun not quite high enough to be noon yet, but that didn’t stop it from being so bright that Rick’s brow was furrowed into a perpetual squint. Michonne had decided that she wanted to stay inside today, and Rick couldn’t fault her for that since it was her idea to take the day off. Even though it was Rick’s day off, too, he still had to see how Alexandria was doing. Judith had already skipped school, but she wanted to accompany her father on his walk.

Their first stop would be to see how the new houses were coming along. Alexandria was expanding more and more each day. Soon Carl would need his own house, whenever he was older and ready to take the next steps in his relationship with Enid. For now, though, the house currently being constructed was for the newcomers they had recently found out on the road during one of their herd redirections. It was a small group of about five people: Magna, Yumiko, Connie, Kelly, and Lucas. As of now they were all staying at Olivia’s temporary boarding house, but it was a little crowded. Since the five of them still wanted to stay together, they were helping to build their own house – under Siddiq’s direction, of course.

As Rick neared the building site, he was surprised to see that Jerry was also there, lugging rocks. Judith recognized his big figure from anywhere, and sprinted toward him eagerly while Rick followed more slowly after. “Jerry!”

“Sup dude!” She jumped into his arms and he lifted her as if she was nothing, but to Jerry, everything he carries is practically nothing. Judith’s feet swung in the air as he rocked her side to side in a bear hug, and when he saw Rick, he lowered her gently back down. “Hey, Rick.”

Leaning on his cane and one hand on his hip, Rick tilted his head and asked, “Everything okay?”

With a big smile on his face, Jerry said, “Yeah, Nabila is fine, other than the usual swollen ankles and random crying. I just came for some of that butternut skillet cake you guys make!”

Already laughing, Rick couldn’t say he was that surprised anymore. Still chuckling, he clarified, “You rode out from the Kingdom for dessert?”

Without an ounce of shame, Jerry’s reply was chipper. “Hells yeah.” In a conspiratorial whisper, Jerry also added, “It’s also something Nabila has been craving, but she would flip if she knew I went to get it for her. But when I bring it back, she’ll be too hungry to care.”

As always, Jerry was a sweet man, and Rick hadn’t stopped smiling yet. “But you got roped into masonry duty,” Rick pointed out the obvious.

Jerry faked a put-upon sigh, glancing back over his shoulder at where Siddiq was patiently waiting with a smile of his own. “Siddiq, man. You know him; he’s impossible to say no to.” Dropping the act, Jerry continued, “Plus I wanted to get some advice from him. The Kingdom has an OBGYN doc, but she’s a chick, and I figure a dude like Siddiq could give me some advice on how to handle Nabila. This third trimester is kicking my ass.”

Laughing again, Rick thought about being in Jerry’s shoes. A pregnancy was never the same as the last. While both he and Michonne had experience with pregnancy, Rick wondered if Negan did, too. It wasn’t something they had ever talked about. “Remind me at the festival, and I’ll swap horror stories with you. Maybe give you some advice, too, over a pan of butternut skillet cake.”

“Awesome!” Jerry exchanged a fist bump with Rick and then waved both hands at Judith. “Back to it!” He joined Siddiq again with the building process, and Rick continued on his way towards the apple orchard.

* * *

 

The apple orchard wasn’t really a proper orchard since they had only a handful of trees, but Rick was betting that with time that would change. The apples had to be Alexandria’s most popular commodity. Year-round, there was applesauce, which was still one of Judith’s favorite snacks. In the summer, there was refreshing apple juice, and in the winter, there was spicy apple cider. It took a while to age, but the natural fermentation process made it alcoholic to warm your insides. It had to be one of Rosita’s favorite drinks since they stopped being able to find Corona.

In the orchard, Eugene was fiddling around with something he clearly invented. At a first glance, Rick couldn’t figure out how a shiny umbrella was supposed to be used, but by now he’s grown to trust Eugene’s instincts. He’d already made a radio communication system between the communities that had made life easy as far as travelling. Rick was glad that he decided to come back from the Sanctuary.

As they got closer, Rick reminded Judith, “Now I know he talks funny, baby, but just be polite.”

“I should just smile, right, Daddy?”

"Yup. Just smile, Judy.”

Before Rick or Judith could even say hello, Eugene spotted them and started explaining his invention in that rapid-fire interesting way of his. “If I calibrated this cooker right, we should be lousy with baked apples ad infinitum.” Getting down on his knees, Eugene addressed Judith. “It would be my honor if you’d consider to be the sous to my chef, or I could be said sous and you shall surely chef. ‘Til then, this Golden Delicious surely has your name on it.” He passed her said apple.

That last part, Judith understood and she accepted the apple with a smile. “Thanks, Eugene.”

Eugene stood again, and Rick nodded at him. “Thanks. Have you found anything interestin’ on the radios?”  

“The Ohio group. We are still communicating and code-talking. I have almost broken said code.”

Tapping his cane on the sidewalk, Rick nodded again. “That’s good, that’s good. Let me know how it goes. And Eugene? How’ve things been for you?”

"Satisfactory. Rosita and I are no longer on the outs as it were, but we have mutually decided to stay as solely very good friends for the foreseeable and unforeseeable future.” Rick gave Eugene a pointed look and he added, “Rosita and Tara are once again together-together, and I am very heartened for the happy couple. It was logical. Tara and Arat could not make the distance work, and Arat and Laura are now together-together. All the ends have met their match except for yours truly, but I suppose that is how it is meant to be for me. I’m an intellectual and can’t afford any physical distractions like the womanly wiles, otherwise I would’ve never been able to concoct my conception of the communication concept.

“But I have offered Rosita and Tara – and my old Sanctuary acquaintances Tanya and Frankie – my help in case they ever have want or need for a sperm donor. This new world needs more of a population now that we have a safe surplus of sustenance and more medical professionals. No reason why the same-sex couples should be exempt from that responsibility to carry on with the human race.”

“Yeah?” Rick arched a brow. “And Rosita didn’t give you a black-eye for that?”

“She missed that – punched me right in the bicep, tricep area.” Eugene pushed up his shirt sleeve to show off a bruise in the shape of Alabama. “But I have not rescinded my offer; the artificially insemination or old-fashion method of coitus is still on the table.” 

Glad that Judith couldn’t understand what Eugene was saying, Rick stroked a hand through her hair while she crunched on her apple, staring curiously at Eugene’s machine. “Glad that could work out.” Rick’s head was spinning a little. “We’ll be seein’ you at the festival.”

“With baked apples,” Eugene pointed out.

“Yes, with your baked apples,” Rick conceded, and led Judith away by the hand.

* * *

 

For a while, Rick and Judith walked with no destination in mind as they simply observed the hustle and bustle of Alexandria. It was much like Michonne said this morning; they were really taking the festival seriously, and everyone was out in full force to get ready for it. Many people were too busy to say more than a simple hello to Rick or a smile to Judith, but he didn’t mind that at all. He was glad to see how far Alexandria had come.

"Hey, it’s Toby, Abby, and Gracie! My friends from school!” Judith nearly skipped across the busy street to where her friends were herding (chasing) pigs down the street, but Rick stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Look both ways, Judith,” he reminded her and Judith did, waiting for a wagon loaded down with sweet smelling hay to pass before she hopped across the street to her friends.

"Judith wasn’t in school today, Mr. Grimes,” said a familiar voice from behind him, and Rick turned to see Judith’s schoolteacher Ms. Corin, one of the older and newer additions of Alexandria.

“Mornin’, Ms. Corin. I figured since today is the day of the festival, Judith could take the day off from school.”

“You and Ms. Addison, Ms. Charlotte, and Mr. Raleigh.” She had a funny way of talking where she added titles to everyone’s names – except for her students. She also refused to answer simply to Corin, or to give her real first name. But oh, well. Everyone these days had their quirks. “I trust she will be in class tomorrow?”

"Bright and early,” Rick promised.

“Too right. Good day, Mr. Grimes.” Ms. Corin picked up her basket of vegetables, and continued on her way.

Watching her go, Rick shook his head at her back. Negan once told him that he was a teacher once – a gym teacher. Sometimes Rick was very tempted to just have Negan teach Judith instead, but when it comes down to it Negan’s vocabulary tests would probably be vastly different. The thought made Rick chuckle all the same.

When Rick turned back to look, Judith was feeding her apple core to one of the pigs, patting at its side while it ate out of the palm of her hand. When the apple core was gone, it continued to lick up the stray apple juice and Judith squealed with giggles at the ticklish, slimy touch of its tongue to her skin. Making his way over to her, Rick smiled at the sight and remembered the prison’s pigs like Violet. Judith deserved a pet, though maybe not a pig or dog. A cat would be easy. Michonne loves cats – does Negan? Is he allergic?

Negan. Rick couldn’t deny that he missed him, even if he saw him just yesterday. But still, it had already been too long. Now Rick knew where he wanted to check out next. “Are you going to stay and play with your friends, Judy?”

Wiping her hand on the back of her shirt, Judith shook her head, her hair whipping about her face with the vigorous movement. “No, I wanna spend the day with you, Daddy!”

“Say goodbye then, Judy. You’ll be able to catch them later at the festival.”

* * *

 

The tomato patch wasn’t very far. Once Judith recognized where they were going, she trudged ahead, already excited. Negan was one of her favorite people. Rick was forced to go slower because of his leg, but he also took his time anyway. Watching Judith’s interactions with Negan never failed to make his heart swell with pride, and that softer, more tender emotion, too.

As Judith approached where Negan was studiously bent over a tomato plant, she slowed down to a walk, trying to sneak up on him. “Good morning,” she called.

Checking over his shoulder, Negan’s face broke out into a smile when he saw her. He wasted no time climbing to his feet, his posture listing slightly to the right as he brightly addressed her. “Good morning to you, too, darlin’.”

“Afternoon, actually,” Rick corrected, and when Negan saw him, his grin simultaneously got brighter and softer. “Good afternoon, Negan.”

“Rick,” Negan’s reply was warm. “I missed you and Judy at breakfast this morning. Don’t you know the early bird gets the worm?”

“Blech,” Judith gagged, “Worms are gross. I like caterpillars better.”

“Yeah, those become pretty butterflies.” Negan squatted down to Judith’s height. “What about ladybugs? You like those right?”

“They’re good luck!” She chirped, mirroring Negan’s toothy grin.

“They sure are. I think I found some this morning while you were sleeping in, angel. You want to see where there are?”

“Show me, show me!” Judith took Negan by the hand and pulled, nearly bringing him to his knees, but he just wavered before falling back on his ass with a chuff of breath.

“Alright Eager McBeaver! I’ll show you.” Shooting Rick a helpless grin, Negan pulled Judith away to a corner of the tomato patch to show her the ladybugs.

As they moved away, their voices faded, but Rick still heard Judith ask, “Hey, Negan? What’s a beaver?”

"Shit,” Negan muttered and then was promptly chastised by Judith for using a bad word.

Shaking his head at them, Rick carefully lowered himself to the ground to pick up where Negan left off in tending to the tomato plants. Negan made it pretty far by himself, dutifully weeding and picking. His basket of tomatoes was nearly overflowing, and when Rick closed his eyes, he could practically smell the pasta, could see Negan’s flash of teeth when he cracked a dirty joke about meatballs that completely went over Judith’s head. Michonne would just roll her eyes with that fond, exasperated smile, and Carl would just call them gross as he set the table. And it would be the five of them for dinner…or maybe six.

Lifting his head, Rick shielded his eyes from the sun to check on Negan and Judith, and he saw that they were throwing dirt at each other. Judith shrieked with laughter when Negan picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder, spinning her around until she begged him to stop. “I’m dizzy! Dizzy! My tummy hurts!” Negan promptly set her down, and she wobbled before she collapsed against his long legs. She smothered her face into Negan’s belly, using his open plaid shirt to hide herself.

“Feel better now, angel?” Negan rested his hands on her shoulder blades, a protective curl to his body as he bowed over her.

Pulling her face away, Judith nodded, and Negan wiped away the dirt she had smudged on her cheek and across the bridge of her nose until her freckles were visible again.

Rick’s heart swelled and squeezed tight at the sight of them. He wished Michonne was there to see it, too. “Hey, you two. Why don’t you come help me get these tomatoes?”

“You heard the man, Judy.” Negan took her hand and they walked back over to where Rick was waiting for them. “Back to work.”

* * *

 

They spent most of the afternoon diligently working away in the gardens. Judith was old enough that she didn’t mind helping out, and between Rick and Negan they kept her on task so that she didn’t get too restless. Soon, though, her excitement for the evening’s festival overrode her ability to keep working, and she begged them to head back to Alexandria’s main street so that they could see it.

The big owl they had built – though Rick had no idea why they picked an owl, but it was probably Jadis’ doing – was going to be burned in a pyre while the others watch or dance or sing or make music or eat or whatever. Normally, a fire that big would be a risk, but it was going to be far enough away from the buildings and Eugene had engineered the city sewage lines to be ready in case of any emergency extinguishing. No one had any concerns for attracting walkers either, because what few that were left were far in between, especially after the last herd redirection where they drove the dead into a trap and buried them beneath boulders and rocks and mud.

So after the tomatoes they picked were properly stored away in Alexandria’s pantry to be divided up and jarred and turned into paste later, Negan and Rick walked to the festival with Judith between them. She held each other their hands, and they lifted her in the air, letting her kick her legs, before lowering her back down to skip. When they turned onto main street, they saw that a large crowd had gathered, tables and chairs set up on the sidewalks where people were selling food and trinkets, and blankets and towels and sheets everywhere else where people settled for a spot to watch the show. The fire wouldn’t be lit until after the dusk had settled. Rosita was in charge of the pyro techniques, with volunteers like Tara, Eugene, Jadis, and an Alexandrian named Scott.

“Is Mama gonna come?” Judith tugged Rick’s hand to get his attention, and he dragged his gaze away from the commotion to her earnest, upturned face.

“No, Judith. Mama doesn’t feel good today. She decided she was gonna stay home.” Judith’s expression fell, and out of the corner of his eye, Rick saw Negan shift nervously from foot to foot. “Carl should be here, though. Why don’t you go look for him or see if you can find any of your school friends, okay?”

Judith didn’t need to be told twice as she sprinted away and up the street. “Be good! Don’t get in anyone’s way and stay away from the owl!”

Beside him, Negan laughed under his breath and closed the distance between them. “Good luck with that, Rick. All she’s been talking about today is that fucking owl.”

“I know.” Rick put his hands on hips and sighed, still staring after her, trying to catch glimpses of her long, blonde hair as she ducked and weaved through the crowd. “Why an owl?”

“Owls are bad luck,” Jadis said, seemingly materializing out of nowhere. She had the uncanny ability to move silently and unseen if she wanted to, making her useful on runs, but otherwise a pain in Rick’s ass whenever he was working and she came out of nowhere to surprise him. Jadis was one of the few people who dressed up for the festival, though it wasn’t necessarily in her Sunday best. She was wearing all-white – pristine white, and Rick had a feeling that if she got wet or stood in front of the fire, he’d be able to see straight through her clothes. “Or bad luck,” she continued blithely, not seeming to care that Rick didn’t respond.

“The owl was your fucking idea, right?” Negan asked. “If it’s supposed to be for good luck, why burn the fucker?”

“Depends. Good or bad, burning it will do something.” Jadis’ replied calmly, not at all defensive about her choice.

“Mhm,” Negan hummed disbelievingly. “And if it was a cat instead, you wouldn’t burn that fucker, right?”

“No,” Jadis’ face was aghast even if her tone was still level. “That would be bad luck.”

“Good to know.”

Jadis paused, and deliberately looked between Rick and Negan. Rick suddenly realized how close he was standing to Negan. He didn’t move away. Narrowing her focus to Rick, Jadis purred, “A pregnant woman who hears an owl hoot will have an easy delivery.”

The tips of Rick’s ears tinged red. “Yeah? What else about an owl is good luck?”

Jadis’ shoulders rolled in an elegant shrug. “You together?” She arched her brow in question, though the way she said it, it sounded more like a statement.

Suddenly, Rick was transported back to the very start of the war where he stood on this street with Michonne. He hadn’t answered Jadis then because she hadn’t been talking to him then. But this time she was, and Rick knew who she was referring to. “Yes. We’re together.”

The corner of Jadis’ mouth twitched into a sly smile. “You share?”

“Not – not exactly,” Rick stuttered. He could feel Negan’s eyes boring into his skull, but he refused to look at him until his blush died back down again.

“If you ever want me,” Jadis tilted her chin up with pride, her hazel’s eyes glinting in the dying light of day, “I’ll join.” She swept her gaze over Rick and Negan twice, as if to make sure they understood, though Rick was praying that Negan didn’t. Satisfied with their response, she nodded, and moved away into the crowd.

After a beat, Negan whistled. “Shit. That was weird.” When Rick didn’t immediately reply, he continued, “I mean Jadis is fucking hot and all, but I don’t know. She always makes me feel stupid nowadays, like I’m missing out on one big joke.”

“Yeah, she has that way about her.” Rick finally looks at Negan, and reassures him with a smile. “Come on, I imagine you’re hungry after all that gardenin’ today.”

“Shit, Rick, you fucking know it. I could eat a whole horse – and I’m not fucking joking about that shit.”

With fondness and warmth, Rick chuckled, “Well, I hope you are. Horse meat is a little tough. Not exactly gamey. Better than dog, not quite as good as chicken or pork or beef. Or gator.” Slipping his hand over Negan’s, he interlocked their fingers together and braved through the crowd with Negan. “I don’t know about finding any horse meat here, anyway. I just know where we can find a pan of butternut skillet cake for us to split.”

“Lead the goddamn way, then, Rick.”

And Rick led them to a booth where an Alexandrian woman named Barbara was given away her skillet cakes. “Rick Grimes!” She called when she saw him waving at her with his cane. “You’re lucky. I’m almost out of skillet cakes.”

“Let me guess,” Rick shuffled over and examined the last two cakes, wondering which one looked better when they both smelled equally heavenly. “Jerry?”

“He nearly cleared me out. Well, him and the other knights.” Barbara held out the pan, and Rick nodded at Negan to take it since his hands were full.

“Shit, the LARPers are here?” Negan accepted the pan with a nod of thanks to Barbara and started looking over his shoulder.

Leading Negan away so they could find a spot to sit, Rick asked, “I thought you had a good relationship with the Kingdom? As much as you can have considerin’.”

“Yeah, considering.” Negan still looked around nervously, inadvertently walking closer to Rick as he did it. “But if the Kingdom comes, well, shit, that means the Hilltop, too. And Oceanside. And Sanctuary. I don’t do so fucking good with crowds anymore, Rick.”

“Would you like to go inside?” Rick offered, tugging Negan to a stop. He waited until he held his gaze and assured him, “We don’t have to stay.”

“What about Judith?”

“There are plenty of people around to watch her. She’ll be in safe hands.” Rick playfully tapped his cane against Negan’s calf. “You wait here and I’ll handle this.” Before Negan could protest, Rick was already tromping off into the fray.

It didn’t take him very long to find Carol because all Rick had to do was look for Jerry’s hulking figure and listen for Ezekiel’s distinct booming voice over the others. Just as Rick figured, Carol had come for the festival with her new family, Ezekiel and their adoptive son Henry. Jerry was sitting with them on a large quilt they had spread out over the grass, sharing a pan of butternut skillet cake between them. Ezekiel had attracted quite a crowd as he took to reciting some of Shakespeare’s funnier monologues, and as always people swarmed to the free entertainment as Ezekiel commanded the space around him. Carol, though, caught Rick’s eye and slipped away easily to him.

“Hey Rick,” she smiled, and threw her arms around his neck. He hugged her closer with an arm around her waist, and she smelled like flour, pine, flowers, and man’s cologne – probably Ezekiel’s. Her pixie cut had grown out a little, the grey ends whispery and leaning more towards silver. When she pulled away at arm’s length, she looked him over like a mother’s fussing and cupped his beard in her palm. “You look good. You look happy.”

“I am happy.” Rick smoothed his hand down Carol’s arm. “You look happy, too.”

“I am,” Carol agreed, “but hopefully I haven’t put on as much weight as you.” She dug her fingers into his sides, tickling, and Rick twisted away, a blush already starting to rise.

“I haven’t really – is it that noticeable?”

“Relax, Rick. You carry it well,” she teased, and Rick only blushed more. “How is everyone here?”

“We’re good, and we all miss you.”

Carol’s smile wavered with sadness. “I know you do. I’ve already caught up with Daryl. He says he’s going to move in with Jesus at the Hilltop. Have you heard about that?”

“Yeah, about time, too. Daryl’s motorcycle wastes too much gas goin’ back and forth every other day.”

“That’s good. Where’s Michonne? I’ve seen everybody but her – and well, Negan, but that’s okay.”

Now it was Rick’s turn for his smile to waver. “Negan is good. Michonne is, too. She’s – we’re,” Rick paused. He was dying to share the secret, to tell everyone he met in the street and all of his family, but he and Michonne agreed it wasn’t time yet for that. And when Rick looked into Carol’s bright blue eyes, while he remembered just how much of a survivor she was, Rick also remembered that she was only human, and a time where she wasn’t as strong as she was now. It was in the nine months between the farm and the prison, where their tiny little group camped out in the forest. One night while he had been keeping watch, he had heard Carol comforting Lori about her pregnancy, offering tips as one mother (because you never stop being a mother, no matter what happened to Sophia) to another.

_“I remember when I was pregnant all I wanted was honeybuns and coffee. The honeybuns, I ate by the box, but the coffee, that was harder to resist. I bet your cravings are killing you now, honey.”_

_“God yes.” Lori’s voice was low, and for once unburdened by that dense cloud of sadness that draped over her shoulders like a blanket. “When I was pregnant with Carl, all I wanted was Checker’s fries and cheese dip. I must’ve gained thirty pounds, and yes, I got the gestational diabetes. It was horrible.”_

_Barely heard over the crackles and pops and the small fire, they giggled like young school girls. “What about now? What do you want?”_

_“Watermelon. At least it’s not pickles or pizza, but watermelon.”_

_Rick’s heart constricted that he couldn’t even get his wife something as simple as that._

_“Rick and I…we didn’t want anymore kids. We had Carl, and he was perfect, and what more could we want?”_

_Their conversation dropped off again, and Rick wondered if they had finally gone to sleep. But then, Carol’s small voice rose out of the darkness. “Ed never…never cared about if we had kids. But I loved Sophia, and I wanted another. This was before I knew how Ed could be. I got pregnant, but then Ed had just been laid off from the power company, and he came home so mad. I thought when I told him, he’d be happy. He wasn’t. He said it was another burden on him. Just another ungrateful mouth to feed.” She lapsed off, and then added so quietly that Rick had to strain his ears to hear her. “He made sure that I didn’t have any more babies – that I couldn’t have anymore, but he let me keep Sophia._ Let _me.”_

_The rage Rick carried inside of him, that always bubbled and boiled and simmered and frothed like a vat of acid in his stomach, nearly spilled over as he tasted bile in the back of his throat._

_Carol’s soft voice spoke again, laced with iron, “This baby, Lori, your baby won’t be a burden or another mouth to feed. He – or she – is the future.”_

_“Yeah,” and Rick didn’t have to be able to see in the dark to know that his wife had her arms wrapped around her sizeable stomach. “She is.”_

_“A girl?”_

_“I have a feeling, yeah. I’m having a girl.”_

Lori had been right; and so had Carol.

“Rick?” Carol’s voice brought him back into him. “Hey there. You spaced out on me. You alright?”

“Yeah, I just have a lot on my mind.”

“The famous Rick Grimes has a lot on his plate, too, I’m sure.” Carol smirked, and when Rick looked at her, she was virtually unrecognizable from the woman she was before. “You were telling me about you and Michonne. Something you wanna share?”

“Just that we’re happy.”

Carol just rolled her eyes. “I knew that.” There was a smattering of applause as Ezekiel finished one of his monologues, and Carol turned to look, clapping along with the others. “Is that all you needed from me? Just to catch up for a bit?”

“Yeah, that and I want you to see if you can keep an eye on Carl and Judith. They should be hangin’ around here and if you see them, tell them to sit with you. Good luck gettin’ Carl to sit with you, though. If Enid’s here, he’s not gonna stray too far from her.”

Flattening her smile, Carol didn’t comment on that, but Rick knew that she was thinking of Sophia. She was never far from her thoughts. “What about you and Michonne? Aren’t you gonna stick around for the fireworks? Well, fire show.”

“I think we’re gonna call it an early night.”

“Ah,” Carol’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Is that code for alone time between adults?”

“Maybe,” Rick admitted with a sly smile, and they shared a laugh.

“You go on and have your fun then.” Carol bumped her hip against Rick’s. “I’ll look out for Judith.”

“Thank you.”

* * *

 

It took everything in Negan not to dig into the skillet cake while Rick was gone. Instead he held it in his hands, enjoying the warmth of it, and watched Rick chat to some silver-haired woman. Negan wasn’t jealous because he had no reason to be jealous, and he also knew that Rick wasn’t the cheating type. Behind Rick and the woman, the sun had started to dip below the horizon, and it was a mirror opposite of the sunrise in everywhere as the colors faded and bled away rather than surged and burned outwards.

When Rick finally came back, Negan was getting antsy to leave and he was really hungry. Rick actually looked surprised that Negan hadn’t tried any of the skillet cake yet either. “You ready to go, Negan?”

“Yup. I’ve just been waiting on your ass, Rick.”

This time as Rick led Negan to the Grimes house, he didn’t take his hand again, though they walked side by side. Negan promptly assumed that the only reason Rick did take his hand from before was so that they didn’t get separated in the crowd back there at the festival, and he tried not to let it get to him.

As they approached, they saw Michonne was sitting with her feet up on the porch swing and a glass in her hand. “Hello boys!” She called, “Where are the kids?”

"They’re gonna stay at the festival,” Rick answered, pushing himself up the porch steps with his cane and one hand on the railing. “I trust Carl to bring his sister back at a decent time, and if he don’t, then Carol will.”

“Carol’s here?” Michonne dropped her feet to the ground, stopping the swing so that Rick could sit with her and start up the rhythm again.

“She is, but she’s all I saw. I didn’t stay long enough to see if Maggie came.” Rick sat down heavily, and then pushed the swing into motion. He saw Negan standing at the stairs, one boot on the porch and urged him to come up and join them, gesturing with his free hand to one of the porch’s white rocking chairs. “She may not come at all. Hershel don’t travel well since he’s this young.”

"Mm,” Michonne wordlessly agreed, and settled her gaze on Negan as he passed with the skillet cake balanced on his palms. “What’ve you got there, Negan?”

Using his knees and the toes of his boots, Negan scooted his rocking chair closer to the porch swing. Rick would be sitting between Negan and Michonne, and Negan figured that would be okay and he wouldn’t mind the closeness. “Rick told me it is a butternut skillet cake.”

“Are you going to share?” Michonne prompted.

Negan sat down and then passed the pan over to Rick to pass to Michonne. “What about you, Michonne? Are you sucking down some dandelion wine, or did you guzzle all that already?”

Over the pan of butternut skillet cake, Rick and Michonne shared a look. “It’s lemonade, actually. Would you like some?”

“I would. Do you want me to go get it along with some forks? Or are we eating this bad boy with our hands?” Negan was already standing again, hand on the front doorknob. “Looks like Michonne could use a refill. What about you, Rick? You want a glass, too?”

“That would be great.”

While Negan was inside, Rick and Michonne talked in hushed voices.

“We’re telling him tonight.”

"Of course, we are.”

“Everythin’ right?”

"Yes, everything.”

“Y’know, we ran into Jadis. She asked if we were together.”

"How familiar.”

“I said yes, but Negan didn’t pick up on that. Probably thought she was talkin’ ‘bout you and me still.”

“Well, that’s okay. She doesn’t have to know, but I’m proud that you could admit it to her.”

“She asked if we share.”

“…We decided that it would just be the three of us.”

"I know that. I’m guessin’ she thought you didn’t much care for him.”

Michonne’s hand came up to tenderly cup Rick’s jaw. “That’s not true, Rick.”

“Yeah, I know that.” Rick turned his head and kissed the inside of Michonne’s wrist. He put his hand over hers, his eyes falling shut of their own accord, and kissed her wrist again. “I love you.”

“And I love you.”

Negan joined them on the porch again. Somehow, he managed to balance three forks, two glasses, and a pitcher of lemonade in his hands. “I’m gone less than five fucking minutes and you two are about to get freaky on me. Don’t let me stop you, I can be quiet and just watch. I’ll even go get the fucking baby wipes for when you’re finished.”

“Come on, Negan,” Michonne said, “Give me a fork so I can eat this. It smells delicious.”

“I fucking hope it is, delicious.”

The utensils were passed out and the cups filled and refilled with lemonade before Negan sat down again. Michonne waited for that and then all three of them stuck their forks in the skillet cake at the same time to eat. It was quiet as they took their respective bites and savored the richness of the dense, moist cake on their tongues.  

“What were y’all talking about before I came back out on the porch?” Negan asked between a bite of cake and a sip of lemonade. The sweetness of the cake went tart after drinking the lemonade, but Negan kept eating all the time. Sweets were a rare treat for him. “I bet you were fucking talking about me.”

“We were talking about Jadis actually,” Michonne smoothly fibbed. “She owes me a cat statue I commissioned her for, and I’ve been waiting for three months now.”

“Shit, Michonne, you’ve got to have a little patience about that. Her muse was probably busy making that fucking owl.”

“Oh, I know. I just can’t wait until I get the cat statue. I wish it was a cat, but we haven’t found one yet.”

“You mean a real cat?”

“Yeah,” Rick answered, “we talked about gettin’ a pet for Judy. A cat would probably be a good one.”

“Cats are fucking awesome, Rick, but I’m more of a dog guy myself. Haven’t seen any dogs, though.”

“Hm.”

Just then there was a blaze of fire in the air, barely visible over the rooftops of the other houses. There was a chorus of oohs and ahs to follow, and Rick, Michonne, and Negan settled down further in their chairs to watch the sky dance with smoke and leaping tongues of flame.

“You think that shit is safe?”

“Yes.”

“If you say so, Rick.”

They were silent as they watched, the stars barely visible through the rising smoke cloud. It was a moonless night, too, perfect for a bonfire. The smoke smelled clean, the wind blowing it higher and higher up.

“Hey, Michonne?”

“Yeah, Negan?”

“You think after Jadis finishes that cat statue you can commission her to build a monument of the famous Rick Grimes on main street?” Negan’s teeth flashed in the dark.

Michonne laughed softly, while Rick just huffed. “Don’t even start.”

“Start what? That’s all I fucking hear about you anymore. It’s never just Rick, it’s always Rick Grimes – everyone fucking knows you, and loves you. You just have to get used to that shit. Own it.” Negan sounded like he was speaking from experience, and it took Rick a moment to remember that he was.

“Negan,” Rick reached over and caught Negan’s hand, “stop teasin’.”

“Oh, no, Negan, you tease away.” Michonne cuddled up into Rick’s side, his arm over her shoulder and his hand on her hip. “I will definitely commission Jadis for that monument. We can find some marble for it, right?”

“Definitely. Scrap metal or wood, now that shit won’t do. It’s gotta be stone, maybe granite? Hell, I think the Alexandrians would be more than happy to donate their countertops to the cause.” Negan squeezed Rick’s hand.

“You two are incorrigible,” Rick sighed. He squeezed Negan’s hand back and stroked his palm over Michonne’s belly before moving his hand back to her hip.

They fell into easy, light conversation after that, mostly talking about the weather and the crops and how the fall harvest is looking for the winter. In the distance, they could see that the bonfire was dying down and there was a slow trickle of people leaving back to their homes.

“Looks like the festival is over,” Negan commented, strangely feeling at ease even though he was clearly visible on the front porch of the Grimes house, holding Rick Grimes’ hand.

“Just about,” Rick agreed, unbothered with the public display of affection.

“Carl should be coming home soon with Judith.” Michonne sat up again, and then rested her head on Rick’s shoulder. “When should we send out a search party?”

“No need. Here they come now.” Negan pointed, and there was Carl coming up the sidewalk with Judith hanging in his arms like a sack of potatoes.

Carl climbed up the porch steps and surveyed the scene calmly, either not noticing that his dad was holding hands with Negan or more likely not caring. “She fell asleep about an hour ago, but I wanted to stick around ‘til the end,” he explained, hoisting his sister up higher in his arms.

“Uh huh, and I suppose Enid bein’ there had nothin’ to do with it.” Rick’s tone was disbelieving.

 “Dad.”

In Carl’s arms, Judith started to stir. She lifted her head from his shoulder, and when she saw the three of them on the porch, she immediately let go of Carl’s neck and held out her arms. “Daddy,” she chose, and made her grabby hands.”

Pulling away from Rick, Michonne urged him to stand. “She picked you.”

Gently disentangling himself from Michonne and releasing Negan’s hand, Rick grabbed his cane and stood. “Alright, alright. I heard her. Come on, Carl. Help me get Judy to bed.”

They went inside, and Michonne stood and stretched like a cat disturbed from its slumber. Negan stood, too, and went to leave, but Michonne stopped him with a hand on his elbow. “Stay a little longer, Negan. What’s the harm?”

It didn’t take much to convince him, especially when Michonne gifted him with one of her gentle smiles. “Okay.”

Both he and Michonne gathered up the forks, glasses, and empty pan and headed inside to the kitchen to wash them up and put them away. It was comfortable, and just like how he worked with Rick in the gardens, he and Michonne worked in tandem with each other. She washed while he dried and put them away. By now he was so familiar with the Grimes kitchen that everything was second nature to him.

 Once they had finished up, Rick had still not come back down yet, and they went to the living room to wait for him. It was too dark now to sit back on the porch again, and the mosquitoes had come out in their last summer hurrah. Collapsing on the couch beside each other, Negan propped his feet on the coffee table while Michonne reach out for the baby monitor and then scooted closer to Negan to show him.

“You still use that on her?”

She shrugged, and Negan thought that she did it even more elegantly than Jadis. “The security system is built into the walls, and that’s still her room.”

“Yeah, at least it’s not in Carl’s room, right? You’d be catching a fucking eyeful in there.”

Michonne nudged her elbow into his ribs, and Negan fell silent as they watched Carl and Rick talk softly over Judith’s head as they tried to convince her to go back to sleep. It looked like she demanded a story, and Rick was going to oblige her. Carl settled in to wait, too, and the sight brought a fond smile to both Michonne’s lips and Negan’s.

“He’s such a fucking good dad.”

“Yeah, he is.” Michonne’s tone was thoughtful and she slipped her free hand down over her belly.

“You’re a good mom, too, Michonne.”

A wave of sadness overcame her, and Michonne’s voice cracked when she answered. “Yeah.” Tears spilled over her cheeks, and when Negan looked over at her, he immediately started apologizing, though he didn’t know what he said wrong.

“It’s fine, Negan, it’s fine,” Michonne had already stopped crying, and she put her hands over his, folding them together. “I just…I was a mom from before.”

Then Negan understood. “You were?”

“Yeah. I had a little boy. He was barely two. His name was Andre.”

Even though he burned with curiosity, Negan knew better than to ask what happened.

“My boyfriend Mike wasn’t that good of a dad. But I didn’t know any better. I was in my final year of law school when I got pregnant, but I still managed to graduate before I had Andre. Mike didn’t really care about that. He was more interested in his boyfriend Terry.”

Guilt curdled in Negan’s gut. “Mike cheated on you?”

“No.” Michonne kept a level head, her tone surprisingly patient as she was honest. “Terry and I were sharing Mike. Well, I thought we were sharing. They were using me. They stayed at my place and offered to watch Andre, and I let them because I had to work because they didn’t. But they didn’t really watch him, they just smoked pot.”

Shifting his position on the couch, Negan turned his body towards Michonne. He tried to understand. “You were… in an open relationship?”

“Nah, an open relationship would mean me and Mike would fuck whoever we wanted. We were in a polyamorous relationship, but Mike and Terry didn’t understand how that worked.” Michonne turned to look at Negan, resting her head against the back of the couch. “Rick is poly, too.”

“Wasn’t he married from before?” Negan thought about Lucille.

“Yes, but he told me he loved his best friend – deeper than he would love a brother. Nothing came out of it, though. Rick was afraid to talk about it.”

Looking down at where his hands were joined with Michonne’s, Negan began to understand. “Oh.”

“You know this is different than the situation you had with your wives, right?” Michonne’s voice was soft, not as if she aware of people trying to sleep upstairs, but as if she didn’t want to scare Negan away. “We wouldn’t be sharing Rick either. For this to work, we have to all care about each other. Do you understand?”

Finally, full understanding dawned on Negan, and when he looked into Michonne’s eyes, she recognized it for what it was. “So, you do understand.” Then she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, and Negan brought his hands up to hold her cheeks as he kissed her back.

It felt like something crumbled inside of him, and it wasn’t long until he was whimpering into her mouth. Michonne guided him onto his back, slotting herself between his long, long legs that took up the rest of the couch, and their mouths never left each other’s.

* * *

 

After Judith fell back off into sleep, Rick and Carl slipped out of her room and into Carl’s bedroom. “You don’t have to tuck me in, Dad. I can do it myself.”

“I know you can, but I’m gonna do it anyway because I love you.”

Rolling his eye in that exasperating teenage way, Carl climbed into his bed. “I know. I love you, too, Dad.”

The sheriff hat was set aside on Carl’s nightstand, and Rick pulled the blankets up for Carl, who allowed it. Sitting on the edge of Carl’s bed, Rick pushed Carl’s hair out of his face and did not grimace at the healed over hole where Carl’s other eye used to be. “You ever gonna get a haircut?”

A little defensive, Carl’s tone was mulish. “Enid offered to cut it for me, the next time I go to the Hilltop.”

"Mhm, and when’s that?”

“Tomorrow?” Carl’s tone was hopeful.

"When were you gonna tell me that?”

“I was gonna ask you tonight or tomorrow morning before I left!”

"Regardless of whether or not I say yes or no?”

"Kinda.” At his father’s raised eyebrow, Carl continued, “Look, I just figured I’d catch a free ride there with Enid, Jesus, and Daryl, and when Daryl comes back to get the last of his things from his house, I’ll come back with him.”

"I’m glad that you’ve thought about this.”

“Yeah, I do plan shit out, y’know.”

Rick’s mouth flattened in disapproval at Carl’s language, but he didn’t say anything. Choose your battles, and all that. “Okay, you can go. Just try to stay safe and don’t be reckless.” Rick bent down and kissed Carl’s forehead, and then stood to leave, but Carl stopped him with a hand on his forearm.

“Dad, are you and Negan…is Negan gonna live here now?”

The question caught Rick off-guard more than he thought it would. He and Michonne knew eventually that they were going to have to tell Carl and Judith, but Rick didn’t expect Carl to bring up the topic on his own. “Yes, I think so. But Michonne and I, we’re still together. It’ll just be with Negan now, too.”

"Yeah, I get that. I’m cool with it.”

"You are?”

“Yeah, like,” Carl shifted around in his bed, using the pause to consider his words. Rick appreciated that. “Like, it’s weird, but I had a dream about this. I dreamed that you and Michonne and Negan would all be together, and that we would all be happy.” His mouth quirked as he gave a lazy half-shrug. “I know it sounds dumb, but that’s what the dream was. Negan’s not an asshole anymore, at least not as bad as an asshole. If you guys are happy, then I’m happy. And Judith is too young to really understand or care. So, whatever you guys are, I’m cool with it. It’s cool.”

Placing his hand over Carl’s, Rick gave a grateful squeeze. “I don’t think your dream is dumb at all.” He smiled at him softly. “Goodnight, Carl.”

“Goodnight, Dad,” Rick heard as he gently closed Carl’s bedroom door behind him.

He slowly made it down the stairs with his cane and when he walked into the living room, Michonne was stretched out over Negan, lip-locked together. Using his cane, he tapped their legs, and they both pulled away to stare at him. “You couldn’t wait fifteen minutes for me? You went ahead and told him?”

Michonne and Negan sat upright, making room for Rick on the couch. Now Negan was between the two of them, and Rick sunk back into the cushions. “You were taking too long, but don’t worry. That’s all I told him.”

With a dazed expression, Negan looked back and forth between Michonne and Rick. “What else is there to fucking tell me?”

Leaning forward, Rick stole Negan’s breath away with a kiss. It was electric, and so different from kissing Michonne, but just as good, even if Rick’s beard tickled Negan’s face, and his nose poked Negan’s cheek. “I love you,” Rick said as soon as they parted.

“I love you, too,” Negan said before he even opened his eyes again.

Michonne’s hand on his cheek brought Negan’s mouth back round to hers again, and she kissed him softly this time, not as deep as before but no less intoxicating. “And I love you.”

Negan’s expression was sunny, his grin dopey and sweet. “And I love you, too.”

“But that’s not all we have to tell you.”

Head-spinning and stomach swooping, his heart elated in his chest, Negan didn’t know what else there was to it. He was loved and loved them. What more could he want? “What else?”

Michonne pulled Negan’s hands over her stomach. “I’m having a baby.”

His mouth dropped open.

“You’re the first person to know, outside of me and Rick. Not even the doctor knows, or the kids.”

"That’s why you didn’t eat this morning, and you weren’t drinking anything. Fuck, you were glowing, too. And you didn’t go to the festival because you were feeling bad.”

“That and I didn’t want to risk telling anyone. If I told one person then everyone would know, and I didn’t want that kind of attention on the day of the festival.” Michonne pulled her shirt up, and where her stomach use to be flat and well-muscled, it was now slightly plumper. “Plus, I’m starting to show. People were bound to notice.”

“You’re beautiful.” Negan’s hands roamed over her revealed skin worshipfully, while Rick watched. “I never had kids from before. My fault that I was shooting fucking soap bubbles. But do you…you want me to be another father?”

“Yes,” Rick answered. “You’re already one to Judith, and Carl, though, he wouldn’t say it aloud.”

Negan actually teared up. “I would be fucking honored to be their father.”

Michonne’s thumb wiped away his tears, and they sat together on the couch for a long time, Negan’s hands never straying far from Michonne’s stomach. Michonne was the one to call a quits first. “Let’s go to bed.” And both she and Rick led Negan up to their bedroom that smelled like daisies and blue-eyed grass.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing like an equal footing poly-amorous relationship. I hope I did it justice because honestly, we need to see more healthy representations.


End file.
